For the Love of Spandex
by Silver Scribes
Summary: Max seems to be developing an unhealthy habit and Batman decides to intervene. Terry/Max.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Bonjour. Welcome to _For the Love of Spandex_, I hope you enjoy it. This story will contain some strong-ish language and frequent sexual allusions. You, my friend, have been warned. My profile contains more details as well as a link to an accompanying playlist. –SS

Beta's make me happy. Thanks BJ Louis, Inazuma Akai and Kyoko Kasshu Minamino

All standard disclaimers apply.

**For the Love of Spandex**

"You're breaking up with me?"

"Yes."

"Yes? After four months Connor, all you can say to me is 'yes'?" Max questioned as the pitch of her voice became increasingly higher. Soon only dogs would be able to hear her.

"Yes."

Max's hands wrapped into tight fists and if Connor wasn't careful it wouldn't be long before furniture started flying.

"Maxine." When had he started calling her Maxine? "You're a beautiful girl and without a doubt one of the smartest people I know and I- well I—" Connor paused and crooked his head to the side, staring intently at the back of the room. When his gaze finally returned to hers there was a new found confidence etched into his voice. "You're young. You're still finding out who you are and where your place is in this world and you aren't ready for the kind of dedicated relationship a guy in my position needs. Seriously, what kind of eighteen year old is?" His hand reached out to trace invisible words on the skin of her cheek as the corner of his lip twitched up into what could almost be a smirk. "Even when you sleep you're all elbows and knees. Joints sticking out in every direction just to make sure no one ever gets too close to you and until you've matured enough to let your guard down this could never work."

Max stood stock still; her chest heaving in and out as anger slowly began to overtake her. It started at her mouth, stilling her tongue and forcing her plump lips into an unnaturally thin line. It then travelled slowly up to her ears so Connor's words faded and all that was left was the base humdrum of his voice and the violent beat of her eardrums. The anger ventured further upwards still and blinded her to the beautiful man in front of her. All his green eyes, cutting cheekbones, shining skin and even more resplendent hair were forgotten as an angry red light pulsed in front of her eyes. The buzzing that held her senses then began to affect her brain. Max acknowledged the way his voice was_ just _an octave too deep and saw the way his smile never _quite_ reached his eyes but with the cloying set of anger -or was that despair- hanging in her chest, she just couldn't care and instead she said, "You're ending this because of the way I sleep?"

Connor chuckled, presumably at her naivety and nodded his head quickly before saying with perhaps what was just a hint of smugness, "Yes dear, this is about how you sleep."

He then stooped down the several inches between their heads and pressed his mouth to hers. After what was barely a moment he pulled up to his full height taking with him all of the breath left within the crestfallen girl and whispered, "Goodbye, Maxine."

With that the strapping man turned on his heel and exited her flat. Not long after the door whizzed shut a crystal vase smashed into its shiny metal frame leaving smatterings of glass all over the wooden floors. Max had wanted to get rid of that ugly thing anyway.

Max sank down into the comfort of her couch and exhaled. How had she become this? The girl screaming and throwing dishes over some silly boy? What would her parents think if they could see their strong little girl now? What would her sister think about that famous boy-resistant Gibson resolve? What would Terry think--?

"I told you older guys were trouble."

The forlorn teenager turned her head ever so slightly to find her best friend lurking in her living room shadows in all his Knight-time best.

"Go away McGinnis."

"Aw come on Max, that guy was a jerk." Terry removed his cowl and swung his body over the back of the leather couch so he could gather his best friend in his arms and allow her to tuck away the tears he would never actually _see_ into the safety of his shoulder. "At least you'll always have me, right?"

"And here I thought you were supposed to be making me feel better."

"Not schway." The dark haired teen chided as he squeezed her lightly whilst stroking the length of her arm.

Max buried her head further into the crook of Terry's shoulder as if trying to find strength within its dark Lycra padding. "Do you know that he actually tried to tell me that I'm not _mature_ enough for him? Me…Max Gibson not _mature_ enough for the lunatic who runs around the city in a green, spandex suit, with arrows strapped to his back. I mean honestly, what century is it? Bet that condescending son-of-a-bitch thought I wasn't _mature_ enough to figure out his secret identity. I have half a mind to post it on the nets so everyone knows."

Max could feel Terry's smirk against her forehead but the boy decided to keep his mouth firmly shut. He was smarter than she sometimes gave him credit for.

"Whoa, wait a minute, Connor was--?" Terry started before he was cut off.

"Yeah. I assumed you knew."

"Alias Connor Hawke, male, thirty-six years old, 5"11, mixed heritage, currently deactivated from service of the Justice League." He rattled off the statistics he had so obviously memorized. He must have heard Max's quizzical groan because he responded, "Bruce likes to keep in the know of other suits passing through the city and your boy's been wandering up and down the east coast for quite a while now but after that whole fiasco with the new Speedy I wouldn't be too eager to get back to Star City either."

Terry shifted and rearranged the entangled pair into a more comfortable position. "He's stayed in Gotham longer than anywhere else, but I guess it's pretty easy to figure out why… Still Max, you could have told me."

Max looked up at Terry and there were no traces of the tears that were dampening his suit anywhere on the pretty girl's face and she rasped, "I'm an impenetrable fortress of secrets McGinnis, and that is all thanks to you."

"Well I figured if you knew anything about other suits, I'd be the one you'd tell being your best friend and all." Terry mumbled his expression akin to one of a sulky child.

Max snorted and said in a pointed tone, "Trust me McGinnis if I was going to reveal secret identities it wouldn't be to you. Besides, Connor had his ways of making me want to spill all of my secrets, again and again and again..."

Terry groaned and scrunched his eyes shut. "Ugh, that's sick Max! Why would you tell me that?"

She shrugged and said in her lightest tone, "I just figured that after all the years of hearing explicit details about your sordid affair from Dana, then over-sharing should be a two-way street." She untangled herself from his strong arms and replaced his arms with her own. Max walked quickly across the space of her apartment and into her bedroom, her arms still wrapped firmly around herself. "Behind the bleachers, McGinnis? I didn't know you had it in you." And with that the door to her bedroom swooshed shut.

They both knew that Max's light-hearted banter was just her way of asking to be left alone and as always Max knew that Terry would comply. She imagined him muttering, "Girls," and then pulling on his cowl before exiting through the window of her eighteenth floor apartment and blending into the darkness of the night.

Max smirked briefly at Terry's predictable reaction before letting her easy-going façade fall helplessly to the floor and her body soon followed suit. She sat on her bedroom floor; fingers curled tightly into the shag carpet, and sobbed her lonely tears into her lonelier apartment.

**-+-+-+-**

On a rooftop not too far away a green-clad figure perched precariously on the ledge looking down into the neon blur that was Gotham city. The wind dashed around him causing a rustling of fabric but he sat perfectly still with his hands stretched out to his sides and anchoring him in place.

"I broke it off with her." He called out to the darkness. He was greeted with silence but this didn't seem to faze him and he continued, "You know the others seem to think that you're different. Approachable. More into teamwork than he was but you probably don't realize that you're just as much of a controlling bastard as your predecessor."

His hands gripped the edge of the roof tightly as his knuckles strained against the confines of his gloves. He angled his head and glanced over his shoulder before continuing, "I guess it must be a requirement of the job. But the more you keep trying to control everything and everyone around you the more you'll succeed in pushing them away and in the end all you'll be left with is the suit and a cave full of shitting mammals." There was a pause as his words were carried on the chill in the air and into the darkness. "And if you're not careful she'll hate you for it."

With that The Green Arrow hopped deftly over the edge of the skyscraper and into the chaos in the lower levels of Gotham for one last time before he moved on to another city.

TBC

**-+-+-+-+-**

AN: So please allow yourself a smug grin if you managed to figure out that Max was dating the nouveau Green Arrow before that last tid bit. Connor Hawke is Oliver Queen's son and took on the moniker of the Green Arrow after his father's "death". I don't know much about his personality but I chose to model his character after the arrogance so often showed by his daddy.

Hope you enjoyed it.

Updates will be sparse. But reviews are encouraging good or bad.

SS.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Hello boys and girls, it's been a while. Sorry. :-{ But I did promise sparse updates, and I'm going to go ahead and stick to that promise. Anyway this is the latest instalment of FTLOS, it's kind of a filler chapter that was needed to advance the plot (yes there is one), and I'm not even going to bother lying, the next chapter may take a while. Again, apologies. Still big thanks to anyone who reviewed, or added this to their various lists or whatever. Reviews keep the world spinning on its axis. No, seriously.

Betas = awesome. Kyoko Kasshu Minamino= Beta. Inazuma Akai= Beta. It's pretty simple math.

All standard disclaimers apply.

**+-+-**

**Chapter 2**

The scent of fried foods and human perspiration hung almost tangibly in the air of the ever popular Cheesy Dan's as loquacious crowds bustled in the warehouse-like space filled with enough video games and flashing lights to cause an epileptic fit.

A waitress dodged purposefully through the human traffic, her hover tray following closely behind her. She deposited her order on a small table by the furthest wall from the kitchen that had four female figures squeezed around it and spun around to fight her way back through the crowds. The girls that sat around the table allowed the dinging sounds of the video games and the thumping bass of techno music to break into their uncomfortable silence.

Max looked at the concern that border lined panic etched into the faces of her friends and rolled her eyes, "I swear, I'm fine! I'm not going to start playing in traffic or step off of the Wayne Memorial Bridge anytime soon. He broke up with me, he left, and now I'm fine!"

And she was. Connor had never quite been able to blend into Max's life like he should have. They were pieces from two different jigsaw puzzles that somehow managed to fit together but the picture they made was never quite right. He was always too tailored, too neat and too conservative to compliment the girl with pink hair, bright clothing and scuffed trainers. His shoulders were too narrow to fill out her barely queen sized bed in the way she wanted. His tastes too refined to appreciate her favorite foods of a Big Mac and fries. Connor had never belonged in the picture next to Max and she was beginning to wonder who did.

Blade still looked uncertain, "Max, you know we wouldn't think any less of you if you if you took this hard."

"Yeah, but I would think less of myself," Max mumbled.

Blade apparently didn't hear her friend because she continued, "Oh come on Max! It's not that big of a stretch for you to be bummed right now; the most damn near perfect guy this side of the bridge has ever seen just broke up with you. If it were me I don't even think I'd have the willpower to get out of bed yet and stop like sniffing his sweaters or something, let alone rejoin society!"

"That's really not helping, Blade."

Max scoffed and offered yet another reassurance at exactly how fine she was and Dana narrowed her eyes at the pink-haired girl, "Terry said you were crying."

Max shrugged nonchalantly and was suddenly very interested in swirling her spoon into the chocolaty liquid of her milkshake, "That was some kind of a Pavlovian response to being dumped."

"Uh huh, because why would Maxine Gibson ever cry because she was lonely?" Dana Tan was many things but tactful was not one of them. "I know you sometimes feel alone, Max. I get it. You see your Dad like three weeks out of the year; your Mom's in and out of the state on business; Gina's already gone back to college and then after this dreg packed up and left you, it's got to be hard. But that doesn't mean that you have to be alone because believe it or not you'll always have us." The Asian-American girl paused and bit back a smile. "Your friends can be your new family, Max, and trust me that'll be way more schway because how many families can say they look like a _United Colors of Benetton_ vid-board?"

Max frowned and pushed back Dana's smile with an exasperated proclamation of, "I'm fine!"

"Really, Max? Because this tough girl thing you've got going here really isn't fooling anyone!" Dana pressed becoming more agitated by the second.

"It's not is it? I guess we just can't get _anything_ past you, Dana." Max said mordantly. "You really should take this show on the road; I bet you'd make a killing telling people exactly how to live their lives."

Dana shook her head. "This is just common sense and you'd be able to see that too if you'd extract that stick from your-"

"Mall?" All eyes turned towards the platinum blonde girl who had been mute since their arrival at the arcade because she was clearly uncomfortable with the situation having evidently skipped the day in class when girls learned how to comfort each other. "I need a manicure," Chelsea said whilst studying her nails carefully before she got up and glided towards the door marked exit. Blade cast a furtive look at the remaining occupants of the table before deciding it best to follow Chelsea's lead.

Dana sighed and leaned forward and placed her elbow on the table, her head dropping into one hand as she placed the other hand lightly over Max's. "I think that was Chelsea's way of telling us not to fight." She looked up and smiled, the previous tension long forgotten. "Come on girl; let's go buy some clothes we can't afford."

+-+-+-

The girls time at the shopping mall rolled by in a haze of swiped creds and biodegradable shopping bags. Chelsea had gotten her aforementioned manicure and had even thrown in a pedicure to boot and the rest of the girls followed suit in their spending-induced high. They currently stood in the plush fitting rooms of a department store as Dana padded out of a stall in a pair of too tight jeans and joined the other three girls by the floor to ceiling mirror plastered to the wall.

"God, we _do_ look like a _United Colours of Benetton_ vid-board." Dana said turning this way and that to further examine her outfit in the mirror.

Blade giggled and agreed, "Totally, we should offer our services for their next ad campaign."

Max twirled and struck a silly pose that was dutifully copied by her reflection. She was fully immersed in the girls' antics. The silly diversion kept her mind from straying into depths she didn't want to swim. It kept Max from thinking about the hopelessly empty apartment waiting for her when the shopping trip was over, or the stack of unopened college admission letters sitting on her desk, or the desperate need to find the person who would keep her sane, make her feel wanted and make her earth quake. She had told Terry this once and he had laughed and told her he could think of a few ways to make her world move. She smiled when she thought about her best friend and she felt her feet wobble. It felt like the earth just moved.

Except…it actually had.

The shrieks from around her confirmed that there had been some sort of explosion from somewhere past the fitting room. Ominous looking cracks crept down the mirror that had been the basis of so much amusement and paint chips fell from the ceiling effectively coating the dressing room in flecks of white. The girls turned on their heels, still dressed in borrowed clothing, and ran to investigate.

"What was that? An earthquake?" One concerned shopper asked to the people amassed in the middle of the store.

"In Gotham, lady? I don't think so." A man gruffly answered whilst clutching his teenage daughter protectively to him while she in turn clutched her purchases just as protectively to her.

Max and Dana ventured closer to the exit of the store and closer to the source of the commotion, as Chelsea and Blade trailed reluctantly behind them. The smoke filling the centre of the mall was so thick it was impossible to see the cause of the damage but pieces of rubble, glass, and mannequin that once belonged to a store's front display were visible around the area. The mob of people rushing to get out of the building swayed the girls' bodies this way and that, but they moved closer still. As the smog began to clear, there stood Mad Stan looking just as demented as ever in his uniform of cargo trousers, a black shirt, and enough explosives to restart the Cold War.

"Mad Stan? I thought I saw on the news that he was committed to Arkham Asylum a few months ago. What is he doing here?!" Dana exclaimed.

"This is Gotham City, sweetheart, people check in and out of Arkham like it's a freaking cheap motel." Max told her friend, as the space gradually aired out, enabling her to better see the chaos around her. Amongst the rubble lay bodies of wounded shoppers, some with injuries too severe to get up and others that were unconscious and from the look of the arsenal strapped to Mad Stan's body everyone in the mall was set to join them.

Where was Batman when you needed him?

Max looked back up to the mad man standing on top of a bench currently in the middle of a monologue worthy of a Shakespeare play, "…that's why society's crumbling, man! The corporations want us to believe that the meaning of life lies in an Abercrombie and Fitch store and that we can find fulfillment in Macy's right next to women's penny loafers. All the man's doing is driving us further and further into debt and throwing us into a quagmire of greed and commercialism. How are we ever going to function as a society if all anyone wants is a new pair of fucking khakis?! There's only one solution…"

"'Blow it all up!'" Max mimicked under her breath. It was a tired speech that she'd heard before, and a bad one at that. Stan lacked proper elocution.

"I say we get out of here," Chelsea offered and without hesitation turned to follow the masses of people leaving the mall. Blade and Dana followed closely behind in a sprint. None of the fleeing girls realized that their group was missing a person.

Max whirled back towards the centre of the mall and was happy to see Mad Stan was still fully immersed in his moment in the spotlight she then hooked her arms underneath the shoulders of an unconscious middle aged woman laying spread eagle on the floor and began to drag her away from the danger currently sporting a buzz cut.

"Lady, you need to lay off the doughnuts." Max muttered whilst she heaved the woman underneath a bench she hoped would bulwark her from further injury and then pulled out her cell phone and hit the speed dial button. This was a situation that required a finesse that only came in a spandex suit. The line blasted two short rings before it went to voicemail.

"Damn it, McGinnis!" Max cursed, slamming the phone closed. She was going to have to find a way to take down Stan by herself because there were only so many benches she could hide people under. Max really wished Terry had agreed to give her those self-defense lessons because Stan outweighed her by a good hundred pounds and she remembered the bruises on Terry's back from the last time he'd encountered him. Max could give a hit but she certainly couldn't take one and that was potentially problematic. She figured though if she was _fast_ enough she could surprise him and knock the detonator out of his hands. After that…well she'd tackle that problem when she go to it.

She jogged back to the clearing and blinked. There seemed to be significantly less injured people on the floor than when she left and she caught a flash of color and realized why.

The cavalry had arrived.

Only it wasn't cloaked in black and red like she'd expected but instead in red and yellow and Max was amazed that Mad Stan hadn't noticed the brightly colored blur rushing people to safety around the area. She blinked twice more and the area was clear of civilians.

"Hey Pinky, you should really get out of here before things get messy." A voice sounded beside her, the hurried words running into one another.

Max surveyed the heaps of rubble strewn around her and said, "I'd hate to see what your definition of messy is."

She shifted her eyes and surreptitiously studied the man next to her who was dressed in an ostentatious yellow and red spandex suit with a lightning flash insignia blazed across his chest. He had a mask covering his eyes and his red hair fell haphazardly around his face. His skin was pale and clear but his jaw line looked too underdeveloped for him to be out of his teenage years. He was The Flash.

"Sweetheart, I know I'm pretty to look at but you really ought to get out of here so I can take care of Guy Fawkes on steroids over there," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "without having to worry about your pretty little pink head." As if on cue a pretzel stand near the clearing they were in blew into pieces. The Flash pushed Max softly "Go!" he shouted before vanishing before her eyes.

Max willed her feet to move but she couldn't help but stare, her mouth slightly agape, at the sun colored blur that painted its way across the mall disabling bombs as it went.

Mad Stan had noticed the interference now that his soliloquy was done and he had a look on his face worthy of his name. He grabbed a hand grenade and wrenched the pin free before he tossed it in the air and caught it much like a baseball and then whirled it with frightening accuracy towards the speedster who was currently deactivating bombs.

The Flash turned, caught the grenade and hurled it into the air in one fluid motion before the bomb exploded violently. He smirked at Stan before turning around to continue his work.

"Now let's see how fast you really are, man! This detonator will simultaneously set off every single explosive rigged in this place and make it look like the fourth of July. I hope you enjoy the fireworks!" Mad Stan thundered, raising a small device into the air, a maniacal smile splitting his face.

Max, who had been inching closer to the villain during his speech, looked up at The Flash, and she thought she saw a look of worry pass over his face but she couldn't be sure because it was gone faster than the speedster in a foot race. Max nodded resolutely, she knew she had to help and so without a second thought she charged into Mad Stan's bulky back and tackled him, throwing the two of them on to the floor and the detonator out of his hands and skidding across the floor. Max landed on the villain's back so he took most of the force of the fall. Stan flipped the pink-haired girl over with an aggravated shout and she landed hard on the ground. She groaned that was going to bruise. The pair lying sprawled on the ground looked up simultaneously to see The Flash standing triumphant with the detonator crushed and useless in his hands, a grin planted firmly on his face.

Stan let out another frustrated battle cry as he snapped up from his position on the floor and hurled himself at The Flash, his bulky arms swinging wildly. If nothing else, he was persistent.

Stan's attack was deftly sidestepped as The Flash moved quickly around him, grabbing the wires strapped to the man and tied them securely around him. He then punched the struggling man squarely in the nose, and Stan fell to the ground unconscious.

The Flash looked to Max and offered her a hand up from her position on the ground. She winced and The Flash grinned, "Thanks for the help, Pinky. That took some balls. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you'd done this before-"

"Max!" The shout from across the mall interrupted the hero. The pair turned to see three harassed-looking girls running towards them.

"Oh my God, Max! We were almost back to Cheesy Dan's before we realized that you weren't with us and we came back to look for-" Blade stopped short and surveyed the brightly dressed man standing next to her friend, her eyes wide with awe.

The Flash smirked at the open admiration, inclined his head in what he probably imagined was a debonair fashion and said, "Ladies," before he vanished from view.

"Holy crap, was that The Flash?!" Dana asked, stunned.

Max's nod was all that was necessary to elicit squeals of delight from her friends. She listened to her friends babble on about the amazing new superhero in town and she looked at the door where he had so gracefully exited and she couldn't help but agree. He was amazing. Besides, she always did like a guy in a mask.

+-+-

"Max! Max! Are you even listening to me?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah sure."

"Really? So you agree then?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure, that's great McGinnis."

"Schway! Now all we have to do is get Dana on board and everything's set."

"Hm? Everything's set for what?"

"That threesome you just agreed to!"

"Ugh, McGinnis! Go take a cold shower!" Max heard his laughter ring out before she closed off the phone line and stared at the words blinking on her computer screen in satisfaction. "The Flash. Identity Match."

TBC

AN: Thoughts? RRR (Responsible Readers Review).

SS


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Reviewers, Story Alerters and Favourite Listers, thank you. Your feedback and support is always very much appreciated. Anyway I've gone back and tweaked the last two chapters so that they are easier to read and flow a teeny bit better. It's a couple of 'and's' here, and a few 'but's' there so it's probably not worth re-reading unless you really, really want to. This chapter picks up immediately where the last one ended.

Playlist link is available on my profile.

My beta is better than your beta. Unless, of course, they happen to be the same person… thanks Kyoko.

Inazuma Akai is kind of a heavyweight in the beta-ing division.

Thanks to Lighthawkdemon1 as well.

That's all a by the way and here is chapter 3.

All standard disclaimers apply.

**Chapter 3**

"Late night assignment?"

"Holy-!" Max exclaimed glancing over her shoulder at the sudden interruption and took a deep breath before chiding, "Don't sneak up on me like that, McGinnis! What are you doing here?" Max asked quickly, shutting her laptop and its discoveries as she stood to face her unwelcomed guest.

"Well if you hadn't hung up on me you would have heard me tell you that I need some patching up." The teenaged boy replied, removing his cowl and peeling the damaged bat suit from his torso. "A joker nailed me in the back with this medieval looking club complete with a wicked voltage going through it; if it wasn't for the bat suit, a couple of inches deeper and Gotham would be missing its favourite hero. Speaking of which," He pivoted to look at her and pointed at the bat suit hanging limply off his hips, "remind me to talk to the old man about getting a thicker layer of Lycra for the suit**. **It's smashed up pretty good. I swear if I ever get my hands on whoever keeps giving them these weapons…"

"You'll make sure they never see the light of day again?" Max offered as she went to retrieve her first aid kit from its place in the cabinet underneath the bathroom sink.

"Yeah, but first I'll make them give me one of those clubs. That thing was schway. Y'know, when it wasn't trying to cripple me."

Max rolled her eyes at her best friend as she stepped back into the room and motioned towards the couch. The vigilante sat down obediently and angled his body away from her so she could begin to clean the blood oozing from in between his broad shoulders.

Terry reached for the remote control and flicked the television on without a second thought, craning his neck to get a better view. After a few moments of indecision, he settled on MTV and contentedly watched the rapid barrage of meaningless images and loosely connected sound.

"Do you think I'll need stitches again?" Terry asked somewhat distractedly.

Max shook her head negatively even though he couldn't see the action, "No, you're pretty lucky this time, the suit took most of the hit and the wounds aren't too deep."

"Schway. Thanks for… you know… doing this."

Max shrugged. "Just call me Florence Nightingale."

"Who?"

"Florence Nightingale? The famous nurse from- -Never mind." Max really needed to get Terry caught up in Sampson's class.

As the antiseptic touched his back Terry recoiled away from the substance, inhaling sharply**.** Max's eyes dutifully studied the way the muscles and tendons straining against his skin contracted as he did so. Her hands made light work of her task as she moved quickly and efficiently removing blood and disinfecting the appropriate areas. The pads of her fingers occasionally brushed his pale expanse of skin and each time he shivered. There must have been a draft in the room.

She placed gauze over the worst of the wound and taped it down**. **Her fingers accidentally touched his skin again and she internally cringed at the raised battle scars she found there. She wondered how many of these were from the days he was committing crimes, not stopping them. Max shook the thought from her mind and went to work on the rest of his cuts as Terry cleared his throat.

"So I heard you played hero today."

Max pursed her lips; she knew he didn't approve. "Did Dana tell you?"

The dark haired boy shook his head, "Bruce."

"Listen McGinnis, before you start, I had no choice. I tried to call you but you didn't answer and I couldn't just let Mad Stan blow up the mall." Max explained in a calm tone which was in direct opposition to the way she pressed the stinging liquid harder into his back than was strictly necessary.

There was a slight tinge of pain in his voice as he explained, "I was on the other side of town trying to stop a gang war orgy thing between the T's and Jokerz. It took longer than I expected and it's very possible that I now need intensive therapy. But I heard you, uh, had some... help."

"Bruce tell you that too?" Max asked and Terry nodded.

"Gossiping old coot." Max muttered before continuing, "Yeah I met The Flash. Cool guy. He's definitely less uptight than some other costumes I know. Although, Dana might have a crush on him, so you'd better watch out."

He snorted. "Don't get too used to him. He's only in town for a little while."

"Oh?" Max inquired as she placed some more gauze over her best friends wounds. The jokers really had done a number on his back.

"The Flash had some issues with his powers a while back but he's okay now. As per request from the League, Bruce is monitoring him to make sure everything stays okay just in case the world blows up or something and we need the fastest man alive to stop it."

"So this isn't the first time he's been in Gotham?"

"Nah, he's usually here every few months but he usually keeps a low profile."

"You never mentioned it before." Max observed whilst rolling her neck and shoulders, she was still a little sore from her earlier heroics.

Terry shrugged. "I didn't think it was important."

The occupants of the room fell into silence and the sounds of the late night programming coming from the television dominated the space. Despite knowing that she should, Max just couldn't let the underlying issue drop.

"You know," she started conversationally, "I wouldn't have needed his help if you'd quit being so stubborn and train me." Max felt Terry's back contract against her fingers as he gave an audible sigh of frustration.

"Max**,** don't…"

"Don't _what_, McGinnis? You know I'm right, and while the crazies in Gotham are slowly going into hiding, this place is still far from being safe. You could use some help out there and I'm telling you I can do it! Even the Flash said--"

Max stopped short when Terry whirled around and grabbed her wrists mid air. The sudden movement caused her to blink rapidly and she watched the aggravation on the boy's face through fluttering eyelids.

"Max, _I get it_, you want to help but you have to understand that I can't let you do that! I'm out there every night busting my ass to keep _you_ safe. I only do this so that you don't have to! Do you think I enjoy the back crippling blows every other night? Getting three hours of sleep before going to school?" Terry stopped and a cough escaped awkwardly from his parted lips, his grip on his friends wrists relaxed considerably. He lowered her hands gently to rest in her lap, looking down at his large hands cradling hers with his thumbs grazing the soft skin of the underside of her wrists**,** feeling her pulse flickering madly beneath them

He raised his head to meet her gaze. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything were to happen to you**,** Max. You know that." Her eyes searched his face and there was a look of confusion and fear there that she was sure was reflected on her own. Terry broke Max's stare before adding. "Or if anything were to happen to Matt and my Mom. Or Dana." He released her wrists and returned to his previous position facing the wall, his back against her. "So Max just… let it go. Please."

They were silent once more as Max for the first time in a long time was without comment. She nodded mutely even though he couldn't see the action and began to finish nursing Terry's wounds. Her mind rewound and replayed their conversation in its entirety and creases formed between Max's eyebrows as she frowned; this was easily the most serious conversation the two friends had had in a long time. "Did you say something earlier about stopping a gang war _orgy_?"

Terry threw his head back and laughed his booming laugh. He answered affirmative and began to recount his day's strange adventure.

**-+-+-+**

Max's laptop was hiding the details to her latest discovery. The Flash. She had had little time to dwell over her successful program because Terry had come barrelling into her apartment demanding attention that she had to give. He had kept her occupied for the vast majority of the night with his wounds needing tending to and his stories needing listening to. She has eventually kicked him out because she needed to get a few hours of sleep before the inevitability of the new day and school. There she had successfully played the roles of gifted student and dutiful friend but in the back of her mind The Flash's face loomed and she was itching to find out more about him.

Max had opted out of the customary after school trip to Cheesy Dan's and the mall with Blade, Chelsea and Dana because she wasn't sure she was able to visit the site so soon after the explosive events. Plus there was only so much talk about the benefits of skinny jeans versus boot cut that someone with a genius level I.Q. could take.

Max had finally returned home and looked at the picture of a red headed boy with a cheeky grin on her computer screen, after a few more internet searches of questionable legality she had found that her suspected hero was staying at the Crown Bed and Breakfast which sat at the edge of town but was easily the closest place in Gotham to the isolated Wayne Manor. That being said it was still a good 20 minutes away but Max doubted that was much of a problem for the speedster.

Max looked around the Starbucks she was currently sat in as she sipped her hot beverage, ignoring the fact that outside the sun was beating down on Gotham and cooking the city to a temperature a little under well done. Her spot by the window was a great place to survey the Crown Bed and Breakfast, which sat across the street, and possibly catch a glimpse of the elusive Flash. She was anxious to see if this Bart Allen really was the fastest man alive and more importantly if she had worked out all of the kinks in her face recognition analytical program after its previous catastrophic failure that had led her to believe her best friend was a common street thug and not a winged saviour.

The pink haired girl let out a heavy breath and crossed her legs; this was her third cup of steaming liquid as she stared intently at the inn across the road. This surveillance thing was harder than she had anticipated and infinitely more boring. It probably didn't help that the person she was hoping to catch a glimpse of could move at the speed of sound and could possibly have sped right past her numerous times in the past hour without her knowing. Perhaps it was time to leave this be. Besides she knew that if he ever found out about her clandestine project, Terry would launch into a lecture about not meddling which she could do without. She gathered her cup and drained the last of it before tossing it into the garbage can; she would just go home and get started on her homework.

As she headed for the door of the coffee shop, a glare in the window caught her eye. Max spun around and saw the ever elusive Bart Allen ordering an iced drink to cool him off from the sweltering Gotham heat outside. He moved with a sluggish pace as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet. After paying the cashier and stowing his wallet he turned around lazily sipping on his drink when his eyes caught hers. Max looked appraisingly at the red headed teenager in front of her and doubt began to bubble up beneath her chest. Sure he fit the approximate age and build of the Flash but could this slow moving and seemingly carefree boy really be a superhero capable at moving at unheard of speeds? He walked leisurely towards her and stopped a few feet away, raising his eyebrow in question at her gawking.

"Hey," he drawled out smoothly.

"Hey," Max replied tentatively, racking her brain for a way to confirm that this was indeed her guy, whilst remaining discreet and charming enough to keep him interested. She settled for making conversation instead, "I was just wondering what kind of drink that is. It looks really good."

"You sure that's all that looks good to you?" He asked, tipping his head forward and smiling lasciviously. When she raised her eyebrow his grin got bigger and he conceded, "Double chocolaty chip frappuccino, with extra chocolaty chips. Here, I'll buy one for you." He finished with a wink.

She narrowed her eyes in contemplation. The speedster had indeed also been a flirt but so were a lot of other guys. Max needed more verification if she was going to quell her doubt in her computer programming skills.

"Thanks." She watched as he moved with the same easy pace, ordering and paying for her drink. The red hair, the height, the lean body and accent not consistent with Gotham all fit the profile but that could all be a coincidence. It was hardly conclusive evidence that Bart Allen and The Flash were one in the same person.

"No problem, Pinky."

Max grinned. The Flash however had been the only one to ever call her that.

**+-+-+-**

AN: So I'm not sure if you know this or not but reviews come from the land of awesome and reviewers come from the land of kick-ass and they coincidently are situated right next to each other. Weird, right?


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